Page 19 of Visions of Darkness

To watch my surroundings and protect myself, because who else was going to do it?

I was trying to flee a city I could no longer remain in.

Alone for the first time in my life.

Lost, yet seeking a new purpose.

A way to live out this life in the best way that I could, and I knew I couldn’t do it here in Albany.

I couldn’t continue to cause my parents pain, and I couldn’t continue to succumb to the pain that they caused me.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I checked the time. There was still an hour before my bus left. Cringing, I forced myself to ignore the missed calls and texts from my parents.

Mom had immediately known I wasn’t going to school, and I’d hidden myself behind the neighbor’s fence as I’d listened to her shouting my name from the front yard. Frantic, she’d run down the sidewalk before she returned home, only for the garage door to rise a minute later and her minivan to slowly drive down the street.

Searching.

It was then that my phone had started ringing incessantly.

I’d listened to her first message. She had begged me to come home.

Swore she was only trying to help me.

Was there to protect and love me.

She’d promised to get me help.

Panic had lit at that because I knew exactly what that meant, and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to listen to any more of them, so I’d turned off the locator right before I’d gone to the nearest bank and emptied out my savings account.

When I got to California, I would check in with them.

I would let them know I was safe but that I wasn’t coming home.

Once I was eighteen.

Once this place was far behind me.

Grief sank deep into my spirit with the thought of leaving, pain shearing through me at the truth that I would likely never see them again.

I loved them. Fiercely and wholly.

And the thought of leaving my brothers and sister behind, never getting to watch them grow and thrive and experience their joy, left a gaping hole inside me.

But I wasn’t sure my parents could ever love both sides of me. They would never accept me or take me at my word—the word I’d kept hidden for years because of it.

Leaving was the only way.

I readjusted myself on the uncomfortable metal bench.

My attention jumped around at the different people sitting in the bus station lobby. Every age and every race. It was impossible not to wonder what might be in each person’s mind.

Not to wonder if they were currently being attacked.

Fed lies and wickedness.

Their spirits drowned in hurt, pain, and shame.

I swore I could almost hear the voices in their minds, a low hum of ambiguity that I’d never experienced before. I tried to shake it off, worried that maybe I really was losing a piece of my sanity.

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